


Av'osto

by Anariel_Luinwe



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Disputes, Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Overprotective, Overprotective Thranduil, Strong Female Characters, War, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anariel_Luinwe/pseuds/Anariel_Luinwe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were supposed to be tucked safely away from the fields of battle in the halls of Mirkwood by order of King Thranduil, your husband. But you've never been one to follow orders. When you're hurt on the battlefield, Thranduil overreacts after helping you out of your armor. He insists that everything he does is to protect you and it takes a heated argument to remind him of why he married you. Queens don't take orders from Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Av'osto

**Author's Note:**

> So this was done as a request on my tumblr! Short and sweet.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize...only the original members of the guard. Everything else belongs to the brilliant Mr. Tolkien.

His eyes met yours from across the battlefield. In that brief moment you saw his composure slip. Surprise gave way to anger only to be replaced by fear. The moment was broken as you twirled to avoid the falling sword stroke of an orc. You knew you would be on the receiving end of a rage later. The King of the Greenwood, your husband, did not take kindly to being disobeyed. 

You lost sight of Thranduil as a herd of orcs pushed against your squadron. You were back to back with a member of your personal guard and flanked by five other soldiers, but it was clear you were severely outnumbered. 

“My lady, we must retreat!” Shouted a commander from your left. 

“Give the command!” You answered as you deflected another attack. 

Your group fell back, but in your retreat an orc landed a blow against the chestplate of your armor. The hit glanced off the hard metal but sent you sprawling to the ground. Pain erupted in your chest and precious air ran from your lungs. 

“Die, she-elf.” Commanded the hideous creature from above you as he raised his axe. 

“Queen Y/N!” Your guard intervened and thrust his dagger deep into the orc’s thick throat. 

But he was too slow to dodge the swing of the dying orc’s axe. Tirmaethor was dead before he hit the ground. You didn’t have time to mourn your fallen friend. You scrambled to your feet and continued to run for cover. 

You didn’t have to travel far. Salvation arrived on horseback as more soldiers of the realm surrounded the orc pack and riddled them with arrows. 

A young rider helped you onto his horse. “Av’osto. It is done, my Lady.” 

Blood trickled from a cut on your cheek, blending with the sweat and grime that matted your hair. Your breaths still came in shallow, painful waves and you could merely nod in understanding. 

“Take her to the royal tent. King Thranduil has been searching for her.” Commander Pendirith ordered the rider. 

The soldier rode hard, jostling your hidden injuries but you said nothing. You too wanted to reach the safety of the royal tent and rid yourself of the irritating armor. When you finally reached the camp you dismounted swiftly and ignored the helping hands offered to you. 

“Y/N!” Thranduil sighed in relief as you gracefully entered the tent. 

He was at your side in two long strides and his strong arms pulled you to his chest. The sudden force of the collision brought your injuries to the forefront of Thranduil’s attention as you let out a pained hiss. 

“You are hurt.” He stated simply, pulling away. 

Thranduil grasped your chin and inspected the gash on your cheekbone. His majestic brows furrowed in concern as he started to remove your armor. Dark colors painted a wide band across your chest. The armor clearly saved your life but left a ghastly bruise in its defense. A stormy rage clouded Thranduil’s eyes and he turned away from you with a loud curse. 

“It looks worse than it is.” You attempted to soothe. 

“What were you _thinking?!_ ” He finally shouted after a strained beat. “You were supposed to be in the palace! I told you to stay behind!” 

His blonde hair whipped sharply as he turned to face you. You forced back a wince as he grabbed your arms and shook you roughly.

“You disobeyed a direct order. Do you have no regard for yourself? For our son? For me?” Thranduil seethed. “For the love of Eru, you could have _died_ Y/N!”

By this point you had heard enough. Your y/c eyes narrowed and you wrenched your arms away. 

“How dare you.” You whispered dangerously. “You think I would intentionally risk my life so carelessly as if it means nothing to me? Where do I belong if not side by side and defending my people?! You are King, Thranduil, but do not presume to command me!”

A brief look of hurt crept over his features. “You belong with me.”

He reached forward and caressed your uninjured cheek in the cup of his palm, tenderly stroking your skin. 

“You belong in our palace halls, shedding light in even the darkest of corners.” He whispered. “You belong in the gardens, singing songs to Legolas. You do not belong around such death and despair.”

“Do you doubt me so?” You ask quietly. 

“Never could I doubt your skill with a blade. You are still by far the most fearsome elleth in battle! But we have a gwinig to think of now. He should never have to fear for us both. I only worry. I do this to protect you.”

Thranduil brushed his hand lightly over your ugly bruise and started chanting, sending tendrils of ancient healing magic into the tender flesh. His icy eyes were thawed and held only lingering concern and reverence. 

And with his hand resting over your heart, he breathed “Goheno nin a’maelamin, gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn.” 

At this, tears began to burn at the back of your weary eyes. Thranduil cupped your neck and kissed each of your eyelids before bringing his forehead down to rest gently against yours. 

“I could not bear to lose you.” 

You captured his lips in a heated kiss filled with forgiveness, promise, and passion. 

“And you never will.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Av’osto - don’t be afraid.   
> elleth - female elf  
> gwinig - baby  
> Goheno nin a’maelamin, gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn. - Forgive me my beloved, you hold my heart in your hands.


End file.
